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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25889971">Gravity's Rainbow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mighty_Ant/pseuds/Mighty_Ant'>Mighty_Ant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), Talespin (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amnesia, Families of Choice, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Astro Boy 2003, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Temporary Amnesia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:55:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,270</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25889971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mighty_Ant/pseuds/Mighty_Ant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gyro knows he isn't cut out to be a parent. But he's already abandoned Boyd for twenty years. He refuses to abandon him again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Gravity's Rainbow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gyro awoke to the shrieking of an alarm and a pounding headache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised his head from where he’d slumped over onto his desk, wincing his laboratory’s harsh lighting made his tired eyes sting. Narrowed to slits, the world continued to greet him in a blurry haze, and Gyro realized that his glasses must have fallen off while he slept. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The surface of his desk swam in his vision and the alarm did not stop wailing, to his growing aggravation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boyd!” he snapped, slapping his desk in search of his glasses. “Boyd, turn that off!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cacophony halted almost at once, briefly sending Gyro reeling in the onset of utter silence. But soon that too came to an end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Dr. Gearloose,” a gray blur that could only be Boyd said as it approached his desk. “Last night you said you wanted to be woken up at seven so I set an alarm on the main computer. I didn’t think it would be so loud, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have just woken me up yourself,” Gyro said, squinting at Boyd. The gray blur lifted its hand, holding out a familiar, rectangular black blur. Gyro reached for it, hoping for his glasses. He wasn’t disappointed. “Or maybe just blast an air horn directly into my eardrum next time, really get the job done,” he snarked, slipping his glasses back onto his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world immediately came into blessed focus, especially Boyd’s contrite expression. Guilt prickled uncomfortably at the back of his neck and Gyro sighed, scrubbing a hand through his unruly hair. He wondered idly where his hat had gotten to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” he said, “it’s fine. Just...be more careful next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boyd beamed, his earlier distress rolling off of him like water. “I will, Dr. Gearloose, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” he muttered, lifting his glasses to pinch his tired eyes between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t you...today’s a school day, isn’t it?” Some brief shuffling of the blueprints, files and miscelanea on his desk yielded his cell phone, which he prodded until the screen illuminated. “Wednesday. So yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup,” Boyd said cheerfully, “Launchpad’s picking me up, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, right,” Gyro replied, distracted as he flipped through the blueprints he’d finished the night before. What had he been thinking when he designed a country-twanging toaster? “Did you finish your homework?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Dr. Gearloose,” Boyd replied. “And don't forget, after school I have hero training with Fenton!” He hurried under the stairs to the little workspace Gyro and Fenton had carved out for him, complete with his own desk and a cot for when Gyro got caught up working late on a project. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hero training, how could I forget,” Gyro muttered. While he trusted Boyd, he still had serious reservations about the kid engaging his defense systems willy nilly, especially with Fenton and Huey as his only supervision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro pushed himself out of his chair with a groan, his body protesting a night spent asleep at his desk. Well, more like a handful of hours really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something fell from his shoulders as he stood, startling him. He looked down to see Boyd’s star patterned blanket on the floor, and for a moment he just stared at it, not comprehending what he was seeing. It was one of Boyd’s most treasured possessions, going as far as to bring it back and forth from his home with the Drakes to his biweekly visits with Gyro. He’d bought it for Boyd back in late October when he started learning about astronomy with the Junior Woodchucks. It was a plush, soft blanket and Gyro knew Boyd loved curling up with it when he engaged sleep mode. Why he would give it to Gyro instead was quite beyond him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Gyro crouched to pick up the blanket, Boyd emerged from behind the stairs with his backpack slung over one shoulder and his tablet in his hands. “Oh, Dr. Gearloose, before I go, do you want to check on the Ochanomizu asteroid’s progress with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro stood with a frown, folding Boyd’s blanket over his arm. “The whata-what asteroid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s part of my advanced astronomy merit badge,” Boyd explained eagerly. “I need to document the progress of a celestial body for one month, and I chose the Ochanomizu asteroid. It was discovered way back in 1952 and it’ll cross Earth’s orbit for barely the second time in less than a week!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro glanced over the trajectory Boyd had mapped out on his tablet, held aloft for Gyro’s inspection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s, uh, that’s very impressive, Boyd,” Gyro admitted slowly. He scrutinized the map more closely. “But where did you get access to such detailed information?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I accessed the deep space monitoring network.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You—what?” Gyro blurted, doing a double-take. A frisson of alarm worked its way into his chest, tightly constricting. “How on earth did you do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boyd looked up at him with wide eyes. “It-the program was running dormant on the main computer. All I did was transfer the information into my tablet so I could show you.” Gyro continued to find himself speechless, and in the ongoing silence Boyd lowered his tablet, grip tightening around the edges. “I’m sorry, Dr. Gearloose. Was that wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s-that’s not what the monitoring system is for,” Gyro managed to stutter out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it for?” Boyd asked curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The official answer? To warn the Earth of incoming extraterrestrial threats. Specifically asteroids, meteoroids, and satellites, not anything organic. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>aliens. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Even if their satellites had been intact when the Moonlanders invaded, it would have scarcely given them a day’s warning, if that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the real answer? To find Della. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a decade, Gyro lived with the crushing weight of his second greatest failure, the creation of the Spear of Selene and the loss of its pilot. His friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The attack on Tokyolk dogged his every step, the inciting action for his every failure. His happy memories with 2-BO all took on shades of gray, curdling and rotting in his mind and leaving behind only spite and misery and guilt. And anger. Plenty of anger. But a decade had passed and Scrooge trusted him, hired him without a thought, and so Gyro’s fear began to lessen. When Scrooge presented him with the plans for the Spear, he accepted the job eagerly. He thought he’d been given a second chance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he suffered another decade with the knowledge that not only had he failed utterly once more, but he’d gotten his only friend killed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For ten years Della Duck was lost, for ten years it was Gyro’s fault, and he built the deep space monitoring network out of a desperate hope that she was somehow still alive somewhere in the void of space. That he’d be able to find her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That one day she would be more than static at the end of a radio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Gyro wasn’t about to say any of that to Boyd, or anyone else for that matter. He came back to himself with a huff, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a warning system, not a toy,” he said, harsher than he meant to. “You can’t just mess with it whenever you feel like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boyd clutched his tablet to his chest, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I promise I won’t touch it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro sighed, a hand on his waist. “It’s fine, you’re not in trouble.” When Boyd didn’t look any less miserable, his gut twisted. This was just shaping up to be another failure, wasn’t it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Experiment in Parenthood Version 2.0, and Gyro was screwing it up again, just like he knew he would. He hadn’t been there for Boyd for twenty years, so ready to accept his failure and abandon his mistakes, abandon </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boyd</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Who said Gyro deserved to be in his life now? </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Hesitantly, Gyro reached out to him, unsure of what he was doing. Would a pat on the shoulder be enough? On the head? Boyd loved initiating hugs, whereas the most intimate Gyro had gotten with anyone in the last decade was cramming shoulder to shoulder with strangers on the subway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator dinged, and he snatched his hand away before anyone could see his pitiful attempt at comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Gyro,” Scrooge said cheerfully, stepping through the doors. “Here bright and early, I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boyd’s timid expression vanished in a blink, replaced by one of his more familiar smiles. “Good morning, Mr. McDuck!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike Gyro, Scrooge was not immune to Boyd’s infectious enthusiasm. “Good morning to you too, Boyd,” he replied, smile becoming distinctly fond. “Launchpad is in the garage with the boys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I shouldn’t keep them waiting,” Boyd said at once, looking aghast by the mere idea. He picked up his backpack, quickly searching through it before slipping it over both arms, mindful of the tablet in one hand. Engaging his rocket boosters, he sped over to the elevator doors. “I’ll see you after school, Dr. Gearloose!” he called, waving goodbye as the elevator opened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro lifted a hand, still feeling off-kilter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a good day, lad,” Scrooge responded, taking the words that Gyro should have said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator doors closed and Gyro turned his back on Scrooge, pouring over the files on his desk without seeing them. Scrooge allowed him a moment to gather himself, but he wasn’t so considerate as to drop the matter altogether. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a fine lad you’ve got there,” he said. Gyro’s shoulders stiffened, hunching up near his ears. “It’s almost hard to believe he was at the heart of so much painful pandemonium.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro made an effort not to crumple the papers in his hands. “What do you need, Mr. McDuck?” he asked, trying not to make his tone too pointed. He wasn’t very successful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In spite of his slight disrespect, Scrooge remained casual. “I’m looking for Fenton, actually. He said he had an update on a situation regarding Magica.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cabrera’s running late, as usual,” Gyro said dryly. He glanced over the mugs littering his desk, looking for the one with the least congealed coffee at the bottom. “He probably got held up rescuing a cat from a tree.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he turned around, Scrooge was watching him with a knitted brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” he asked. “You look...well, frankly you look a mite terrible, Gyro.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro scowled. “I’m fine, Mr. McDuck. I’ve just been busy.” He marched resolutely over to the coffee maker, least-dirty mug in hand. There was still coffee in the carafe, though it was bound to be ice cold by now. He turned on the machine in the hopes of warming it, though he couldn’t remember if he’d tinkered with it recently. If he had, it was just as likely to spit the coffee in his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, his departure not only gave Scrooge a full glimpse at not only his bedraggled state but also the clutter of his desk, upon which Boyd’s blanket still sat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jumping junipers, Gyro! Did you sleep here?” he demanded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just lost track of time,” Gyro muttered, rubbing his eyes as the coffee maker began to grumble. “It won’t count as overtime, if that’s what you’re worried about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I wasn’t worried until now, so thank you for that!” Scrooge stamped his cane on the ground. “What about Boyd? I suppose the lad spent the night here, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was one night! And besides, he said he didn’t mind.” Gyro felt like an idiot saying it, moreso to Scrooge, but he was too tired to censure himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That boy ‘wouldn’t mind’ if you raked him over hot coals!” Scrooge and Gyro stared hard at each other; as always the former standing tall and unwavering, while the latter remained hunched and defensive as always. The coffee maker beeped, and with it their standoff came to an end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scrooge sighed. “Gyro, your boy looks at you like you hung the stars. You must know how much he admires you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro turned away to pour his lukewarm coffee. “Yeah. So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Scrooge started to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator dinged, and they both glanced over as the doors opened. It was empty inside, and Gyro rolled his eyes at the sight. He knew for a fact that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>tinkered with the elevator, and it had been on the fritz ever since.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Scrooge said again, “be there for Boyd. If it’s work that’s the trouble, take some time off! I’d never begrudge a man for wanting to be there for his family, so long as he isn’t neglecting his work responsibilities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scrooge shook his head as Gyro took a long, purposefully slow sip of his rapidly cooling coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The last thing any child needs is to feel like an obligation,” he said on a sigh. Gyro knew that his boss could only be thinking of his niece and nephew, orphaned and thrust into his life at such a young age. Even so, it was the first time in their conversation that Gyro had agreed with him wholeheartedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right,” he said, a sense of finality sinking in his chest like a stone in deep water. “That's why Boyd’s going back to living with the Drakes full time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?” When Gyro looked up, Scrooge was aghast. “Gyro, you cannae be serious!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slammed his mug down on the counter, coffee spilling over the side. “It’s what’s best for Boyd,” Gyro said firmly. “He shouldn’t look up to me. I’m not the person he knew, not-not the father he remembers. I may have been naive and stupid back then but I was a better man. I don’t want Boyd turning out like I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting the words out was like pulling teeth, but Gyro had to justify his decision somehow, and Scrooge was the only person he could ever afford to be this candid with. Scrooge, who looked at his dismal track record and still thought he showed promise, continuing to weather every one of his cataclysmic failures. Even then, Gyro couldn’t remember his boss (and oldest friend) ever challenging him like this before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think you should give Boyd a choice?” Scrooge insisted. “This is his life you’re meddling with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro shook his head. “I’m not dragging this out. It’s what’s best for him, we all know that. I’m no good with kids, not even ones I gave sentience to.” He’d grown too accustomed to solitude, to late nights and early mornings and surviving on nothing but coffee and air and spite. He was cold and cruel and after twenty years didn’t know any other way to be anymore. His work was his life, if one could call it a life, and it was one even </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>wouldn’t wish on any child. But especially not Boyd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gyro, you must have known this wouldn’t be easy,” Scrooge said, kneading his brow. “After all the work you put into having a place in his life in the first place!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swept a hand harshly through the air. “It is hard,” Gyro bit out, “It’s too hard. I was ready twenty years ago but I’m not ready now, and Boyd doesn’t deserve to be saddled—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a rush of sound, one of Fenton’s precariously stacked file towers collapsed all over the floor in a flood of paper. On the other side, standing stock still with yellow eyes wide in alarm was—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boyd,” Gyro breathed, his voice strangled. Horror settled deep and frigid in his veins, radiating outward with numbing intensity. His jaw worked uselessly, not a further sound leaving his beak. Beside him, Scrooge was similarly tongue-tied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…” Boyd’s voice wavered. “I took my tablet with me by-by accident. You told me to always leave it in the lab. I-I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro could scarcely breathe, much less speak, but he forced out the words. “You don’t need to apologize, Boyd. You’re not in trouble.” He gentled his tone as best as he was able, taking a step in Boyd’s direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boyd stepped back, and Gyro’s stomach dropped to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-but you are giving up on me. Again.” Boyd clutched his tablet close to his chest as he retreated, moving further away from Gyro. Tears sprung to the corners of his eyes, and the sight of them was like a punch to the gut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro held up his hands, half-beseeching. “It’s not like that, kid,” he said weakly, shame resting its heavy hand on the back of his neck. This wasn’t the way the conversation was supposed to go but of course he’d managed to screw that up too. “You-you weren’t supposed to hear any of that. But you understand where I’m coming from, don’t you? You were perfectly happy with the Drakes before you even remembered me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was happy with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Boyd snapped, furious in a way Gyro had never seen before, in a way that silenced him. It lasted the barest moment before his features crumpled. He took a shuddering breath, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “But you weren’t,” he said, so quietly Gyro almost couldn’t hear him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy, Dr. Gearloose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gyro sighed, carefully moving closer. “Boyd, it’s not—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The roar of Boyd’s rocket boosters engaging drowned out the rest of his words, and Gyro lifted his arm to shield his face from the rush of hot air. Boyd took off, too fast to stop. Instead of returning to the elevator, he shot toward the door that opened into the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boyd!” Gyro shouted, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry to follow. “Boyd, wait!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boyd slammed into the door with such force his shoulder left  a dent in it. Without pause, he vanished around the other side of the doorway. Gyro burst in only be a second or two after him, but all that greeted him was an empty stairwell and a swiftly dissipating trail of smoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood there, chest heaving, for several long seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The steady clacking sound of a cane approached him from behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give him some time, Gyro,” Scrooge said quietly. “You can still fix things between the two of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro swallowed thickly, grief and the heavy sensation of inevitability lodging in a familiar space beneath his sternum. He slowly pounded a fist against the doorframe. “No. It isn’t the way I wanted things to go but at least it’s done. He won’t want anything to do with me now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned away from the stairwell, letting the door swing crookedly behind him. Ignoring Scrooge’s shocked expression he walked past his boss and back to his desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call Cabrera for you,” Gyro said stiffly. “He knows better than to be this late to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boyd’s star blanket was waiting for him upon his return. He resolved to ignore it too. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, Gyro awoke to the shrieking of an alarm and a pounding headache. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was growling in annoyance before he’d even raised his head. “Boyd!” he snapped, too tired to bother opening his eyes, still half asleep as he pushed himself off his desk. “What did I tell you about that blasted alarm!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one answered him, and the alarm did not stop wailing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro blinked his sleep-encrusted eyes open and his laboratory appeared before him in all of its blurry glory. While practically blind without his glasses, even to him it was readily apparent that he was the only person here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All at once, clarity returned to his exhausted mind, and on the tails of that came memory. Gyro groaned, dropping his head back down to his desk. “Idiot,” he muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boyd had been back with the Drakes since the beginning of the week. Gyro was back to suffering his all-nighters alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The point being, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>needed to turn off the alarm whatever it was. Lifting his head once more, Gyro blearily scanned the surface of his desk in search of his glasses, pawing around for equal measure. A clatter told him he had knocked them off his desk, and Gyro groaned before carefully climbing down out of his chair, desperately hoping he didn’t accidentally crush them. He was down to his last pair, and he was already dreading having to return to buy more. He bought in bulk and had already provided his eye doctor with enough business for the month. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, his searching hands came into contact with familiar plastic, and he raised his glasses to his face. Unluckily, one of the lenses was cracked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grumbling to himself, Gyro gripped the edge of the desk and levered himself back to his feet. The alarm hadn’t stopped shrieking, and unless he did something about it his headache would become a permanent fixture of the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hurried over to the main computer, wondering what might be causing the alarm. It wasn’t the security system, otherwise the Bin would already be going into lockdown. He briefly considered the possibility that Cabrera had installed an erroneous subroutine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The true source of the problem quickly presented itself, and the realization left Gyro paralyzed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The deep space monitoring network. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fingers flying over the keys in a panic, Gyro desperately strove to access the network as rapidly as possible. His mind whirled with the potential dangers. Another invasion? Perhaps by a race with less forethought than the Moonlanders, not destroying their satellites in advance of their attack? Or a race with even more overwhelming might, who saw no need to cover their tracks? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator opened behind Gyro with a cheerful chime, but he paid it no mind as a map of the Earth’s atmosphere filled the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gyro!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely heard Fenton’s panicked shout over the shrill alarm he had not yet quelled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Busy!” Gyro snapped, not taking his eyes off the monitor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenton raced over to his side, quite literally. He was in the Gizmosuit. “I got the alert, too!” he said in a rush. “Something’s coming down hard over Toucanada. It’s in the Mesosphere now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro entered in the necessary parameters, and the extent of the problem unfolded before them with the object’s trajectory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t understand,” Fenton said unsteadily, “Ochanomizu, it’s an Earth-crossing asteroid! DASA’s been tracking it for weeks, how could it suddenly change course like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It must’ve hit something that knocked it off-course,” Gyro muttered, entering the equation that would give them the coordinates for where the asteroid would impact. He scowled, swiping a hand through his hair and knocking his hat askew. “At the rate it’s going, it’ll land too close to population centers in Quailbec for my liking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenton flipped up his visor, blanching beneath the Protect-O-Glass. “The asteroid’s more than half a mile wide, the damage it could cause—it would be like </span>
  <span>releasing the energy equal to </span>
  <span>100 billion tons of dynamite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro froze, swallowing against a desert dry throat. Around them, the alarm continued to blare. He hadn’t thought to shut it off. “How…how do you know so much about this thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenton made to answer, only to hesitated, unsubtly glancing Gyro’s way. “I was helping Boyd with his astronomy project.” When Gyro’s scowl deepened, he carefully added, “is...is that okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got bigger problems at the moment, Cabrera!” Gyro barked. “The asteroid’s coming down fast, fifty kilometers a second. Is there a way to shoot it down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I contacted Mr. McDuck as soon as I got the alert,” Fenton replied, though he didn’t look any less worried. “He was going to look into a military approach, but if it continues its current speed I don’t know if there will be enough time for a coordinated—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The computer beeped several times in quick succession, and Gyro stared agog at the readout on screen. “I don’t believe it,” he said. “It’s slowing down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look!” Gyro insisted. “It just went from fifty to forty kilometers a second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenton used his greater mass to push Gyro out of the way, disregarding his cry of indignation. “Did it hit something else? Something to slow its descent?” he wondered aloud as he redirected the program. “Aha! There!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They watched a playback of the asteroid’s progress from mere seconds ago. Sure enough, a tiny object could be tracked across the screen until it made contact with Ochanomizu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever it is,” Gyro said, uselessly attempting to shove Fenton out of the way, “the network didn’t recognize it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe Mr. McDuck spoke to the Toucanadian authorities in time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The computer beeped again, but this time a new window opened along with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone’s patching a radio signal through!” Fenton exclaimed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is this?” Gyro demanded. “This computer operates on a closed circuit, how did you get access?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For several seconds, crackling static was their answer. The voice that finally broke through was young, and immediately familiar. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dr. Gearloose!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Boyd cried. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s —— Boyd!”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Boyd?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gyro exclaimed, incredulous. “What’re you—how did you get access?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I borrowed the portable comm—— you gave Louie.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro pinched the bridge of his beak between forefinger and thumb. “Okay, well, as much as I’d love to chat, Boyd, we have a bit of a situation on our hands. How about I call you later?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenton, who hadn’t moved away from the computer screen, looked back at him in horror. “Gyro,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The radio crackled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I know,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Boyd said, sounding apologetic. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ochano——was kn—— off-course by a satellite. I tracked it on m——blet.”  </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A satellite,” Gyro repeated, “yes, that makes sense. Thank you for your input, Boyd, but we really need to hang up now—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Gyro,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Fenton snapped with such vehemence that Gyro immediately fell silent in surprise. He remained silent when he took in Fenton’s expression, looking more terrified than Gyro had ever seen him. “The unknown object,” he said shakily, “it’s where Boyd’s radio signal is coming from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro didn’t breathe. He couldn’t remember how to make his lungs expand, didn’t think he could draw breath even if he did. He felt frozen through, as though his ribcage had been filled with concrete. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boyd,” Gyro distantly heard himself say, “where are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The static rose and fell in volume, making his heart stutter. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Leaving the mesosphere,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Boyd said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“With ——steroid.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” Gyro stammered. “How did—how are you—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I told you, I’ve b—— tracking ——”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro shook his head. “No. No, Boyd, get back here this instant. What do you think you’re doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boyd’s laugh was distorted by the static, and unless Gyro was mistaken it sounded pained. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I jus——anted to help. Fento—— said I could be a force f—— good.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro spared a glance Fenton’s way; his coworker looked like he’d been suckerpunched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boyd, you can help people in other ways,” Gyro said, desperation leaking into the measured voice he tried to maintain. “Now, you’ve already slowed the asteroid down a lot, and that’s great. But come back home now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Boyd said, and it wasn’t just the static making him difficult to understand. Whatever he was doing, it was hurting him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not ——ow enough. Peo——ht still get hu——” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your frame can’t take that much stress for so long,” Gyro pleaded, “it’s going to overwhelm your system, Boyd</span>
  <em>
    <span>—Boyd, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it could kill you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Static was their only answer for many, many seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boyd,” Gyro shouted insistently. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“——’s its speed now?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he finally asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenton swallowed thickly. “Twenty kilometers per second, Boyd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fenton,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gyro hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This i——at you made me for, Dr. Gear—” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Boyd said, cutting off with a grunt of pain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“——protect people.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What people!” Gyro demanded, pounding his fists against the computer console. “You don’t even know who’s out there! I didn’t-I didn’t make you for </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Someone’s Huey mig——e here,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Boyd countered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Some——Fenton, or Unc——ooge. Or their ——rloose.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The asteroid was dangerously close to impact. Gyro’s gaze was locked on its trajectory as it steadily made its way through the atmosphere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten kilometers,” Fenton whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boyd,” he said again, his son’s name heavy on his tongue, the most important thing he would ever say. “I-I’m sorry for what I said. You do make me happy, kid. Just by </span>
  <em>
    <span>existing </span>
  </em>
  <span>you make me so damn happy. Please...just come home.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The radio fizzled and Boyd’s voice came through distorted. Terror gripped Gyro’s heart in an even tighter vise than before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boyd? Boyd, can you hear me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>——gs wrong,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Boyd cried. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I can’t ——”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boyd!” Gyro shouted. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad, I——”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He was cut off by a harsh roar of static. Only this time, the static didn’t quiet and Boyd didn’t speak again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boyd,” Gyro breathed. His voice grew steadily in volume as darkness began creeping in on the edge of his vision. “Boyd. Boyd! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boyd, </span>
  </em>
  <span>answer me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He—we lost his signal,” Fenton stammered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then get him back!” Gyro rounded on him, shoving him with all the force he could muster. All he succeeded in was nearly knocking himself to the ground.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenton nodded frantically, pale beneath his feathers. “O-of course, Gyro, I’ll do my best. But if he lost the communicator, it may not be possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care!” Gyro snapped. “We need to find him before—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The computer chimed once more, and they immediately fell quiet to look at the display. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did it,” Fenton said quietly. “Ochanomizu just made landfall in the southern Borowl Forest. Far away from any population centers.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro stared at the screen, seeing but not comprehending. His knees felt weak and trembling and he hadn’t realized he’d started to sway until Fenton gently guided him into a chair with a hand on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call Launchpad,” he said quietly. “We’ll fly straight there to search for Boyd.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gyro couldn’t find the wherewithal to respond, and Fenton must have left because he suddenly found himself alone again. He must have shut off the radio signal too, but Gyro could still hear the roaring static in his ears, the deafening sound of his worst failure yet. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The snowy hillside was quiet and still, illuminated in lilac and blue by the sparse rays of fading twilight. Pine trees crowded the land, their boughs weighed heavily by thick white powder courtesy of the latest snowfall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two men made their way through the wood, their flashlight beams painting the landscape in brief flickers of gold and snow crunching beneath their boots. A low hanging branch made unfortunate contact with the head of the taller of the pair, dumping snow inside the collar of his coat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gah!” the old bear exclaimed in dismay, scrabbling to shake the snow out of his coat with one hand. The other was bound in a plaster cast, fastened close to his chest in a sling. “Darn it, Wildcat!  I’m gonna freeze my tail off if we stay out here any longer. Are you sure you saw something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gray-maned lion ahead of him nodded eagerly, turning around in the knee-deep snow. “Course I’m sure! You know I was outside waiting for the asteroid to go by, and I saw a piece break off! Just think of how neat having a space rock would be!” He gesticulated excitedly, his flashlight beam arcing through the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m thinking about how much money we’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>make </span>
  </em>
  <span>off a space rock,” the bear retorted. He held up his good hand to shield his eyes from Wildcat’s flashlight. “And hey, watch you’re pointin’ that thing, pal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Baloo,” Wildcat said, contrite, but only for half a second. “Now c’mon, I’m sure we’re almost there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bounded off through the snow and trees, his energy undimmed by the dipping temperature. Baloo sighed but plodded unerringly after his old friend, though not without some cathartic grumbling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darn arm. Darn Kit. I can fly with my eyes closed, thank you very much, nevermind one handed. Now I’m stuck with Wildcat and no plane and he’s drivin’ himself stir crazy without something to fix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baloo!” Wildcat called. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming!” he yelled back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baloo, you’ve gotta see this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes with a smile, Baloo nevertheless picked up the pace. Following the sound of Wildcat’s voice, he began to see thin trails of smoke rising above the treeline. The smell of burned wood and ozone flooded his senses and he started to run as much as the heavy snow would let him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be darned,” he huffed, “Wildcat might just get his space rock after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a final burst of speed, Baloo broke through the treeline. Or rather, something else did for him. A clearing had been carved out in the middle of the woods by the smoldering remains of pine trees and overturned earth. The snow here was sparse, melted away by whatever had made landfall and left deep gouges in the ground over a dozen feet long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It resembled some of the worst plane wrecks he’d been witness to, but there was no debris, no flames, and that reassurance was enough to get Baloo’s stuttering heartbeat back under control. Still, he let out a long, disbelieving exhalation at the sight of so much destruction, his breath clouding in front of his snout. His survey came to an end when his gaze landed on Wildcat, standing at the rim of the crater at the far end of the clearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you take a look at this mess?” Baloo said breathlessly. He whistled as he carefully picked his way through the fractured remains of charred trees. “Can’t wait to see what all the fuss is...about…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He climbed up to the lip of the crater, joining Wildcat in looking down at the bottom. Half buried under smoking dirt and rock was an unconscious little boy, a gray parrot with tattered clothes and singed feathers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Baloo said, stunned. “That’s no space rock.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind whistled through the trees and the sky grew steadily darker above them as they stared down at the boy in the crater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do...do you think he’s an alien?” Wildcat wondered after several moments of silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baloo climbed over the edge of the crater, beginning his careful descent to the bottom. “I dunno,” he grunted, fighting not to lose his footing on any loose earth. “He doesn’t look like those moon fellas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wildcat started to follow him down just as Baloo made it to the boy’s side. He thought back to everything he’d learned when Kit was young and what he knew of head injuries now. He wondered if any of that mattered when the child in question had all but fallen out of the sky with barely a scratch on them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baloo settled for digging the boy out of the rubble, speaking gently in the hopes of rousing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there, kiddo. Can you hear me? We’re here to help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you here to take over our planet?” Wildcat asked eagerly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Baloo could do more than send him a dirty look, the boy’s eyes snapped open, glowing bright yellow in the dark. He sat up with inhuman speed, making Baloo jerked back in alarm. Wildcat lost his footing entirely, landing hard on his bottom. But the boy didn’t move again, to Baloo’s relief and growing worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, his irises began flickering like a television with bad reception, going from blue to an alarming red and back again. His expression remained eerily still and blank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A robot!” Wildcat crowed with delight. “Oh, that’s much better than aliens.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen a robot that looked like a little kid before,” Baloo observed hesitantly. Now that the boy was sitting up, Baloo saw that he had a small dent in the right side of his head, like a ding in a car door. He could already hear Becky shouting in his ear, berating him for being so stupid as he reached out, laying a careful hand on the boy’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Kid? You alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy’s eyes stopped flickering, settling on the color gray. Not a moment later he slumped against Baloo, his body losing its robotic rigidity. Before Baloo could panic, the boy looked up at him, blinking wide, confused eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well hey there,” Baloo said, smiling in relief. “Finally joined the land of the living, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” the boy said in a painfully young voice. “Um...Where am I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wildcat was quick to answer. “We’re in the Usland Mountains, in Toucanada. I saw you come down from outside our cabin!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy looked around the crater, the confusion on his face plainly evident. “T-Toucanada? What am I doing here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You tell us, kiddo,” Baloo replied apologetically. “We just found you here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winced, sparks fizzling before his eyes. “I...I don’t remember,” he said, holding a hand to his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baloo jostled him lightly with an encouraging grin. “That’s alright! With a bump like that, I wouldn’t remember much either.” He watched the boy startle as his hand traveled up to the dent above his temple. “How about we just focus on introductions?” he suggested. “The name’s Baloo! The kinda silly-lookin’ fella over there is Wildcat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy giggled. “Okay,” he said, “Well I’m—I’m—I’m a—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started and stopped like a skipping record player, and his expression grew more frightened the more agitated he became. “I-I don’t know. I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>remember</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Baloo would be the first to admit that if it wasn’t a plane, he didn’t know the first thing about machines. He happily left all that newfangled tech stuff to Molly and Wildcat. But robot or not, this kid was terrified and that was no illusion; of that much, Baloo was certain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean you can’t remember your name?” he asked, but dread began to settle over him, a dense stone in the pit of his stomach, as cold as the snow that began to fall around them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy’s small hand tightened in the fabric of Baloo’s coat. “I can’t remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  
</p>
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